


Waking up is the hardest part

by gekidasa



Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-04-11
Updated: 2013-04-28
Packaged: 2017-12-08 03:44:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/756664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gekidasa/pseuds/gekidasa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thomas helps a drunken Jimmy up the stairs to the men's quarters. Jimmy wants to know why Thomas is always so nice to him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. You know why

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted this as "You know why", but then it became multi-part and more about Jimmy, so I changed the

It was well past midnight by the time Thomas made it up the stairs to the men’s quarter, half-supporting a very drunk Jimmy Kent.

He stopped at the door to Jimmy’s bedroom, unhooking his arm from around his body. Jimmy stumbled a little at the sudden lack of support and caught himself against the doorframe.

“Could’ve warned me, Mr. Barrow…” He slurred, a cheeky grin on his lips as he pushed his hair back from his face with his free hand.

“And you could learn to take it easier on the gin, _James_. What if Carson had seen us?”

“What if he had?” Jimmy asked, his voice too loud in the quiet darkened corridor. “We weren’t doing anything wrong, we’re mates!” 

Thomas sighed, rubbing his temple. He was nowhere near Jimmy’s state, but he’d had a few drinks himself and could feel a headache coming on. He did not want to deal with this.

“Go to bed, Jimmy,” he muttered. He turned, intending to go to his own room, but Jimmy’s hand on his arm stopped him.

“Wait. There’s… aaah. I have a question.” 

“All right, Jimmy. What is it?” Thomas was acutely aware that Jimmy was still holding his arm.

“Why’re you doing this?” Thomas stared at him blankly. “This! Helpin’ me up the stairs, coverin’ for me with Carson when I cock up… Don’t say you don’t, because I know you do!”

_You know why._

Thomas shook his head. He couldn’t say that. Things were going so well; he and Jimmy were friends, and the initial awkwardness that had marked their renewed acquaintance had lessened considerably since O’Brien had gone. He couldn’t, wouldn’t allude to his feelings for Jimmy.

“We’re friends, Jimmy,” he replied finally, carefully.

“No, Alfred and I’re friends, and he’d just piss ‘imself laughin’ if he saw me tryin’ to stumble up those stairs like that.”

Thomas didn’t say anything. He just watched as Jimmy frowned and bit on his lower lip. He really wished he had a cigarette.

Jimmy crossed his arms and met his eyes, clearly expecting him to say something. Thomas let out a slow breath, weighing his next words.

“Are you saying we’re not friends because I help you up the stairs instead of laughing at you?”

“I… ” Jimmy blinked, furrowing his brow slightly. “No, I just said we _are_ mates. Just… it’s different with you… you _hover_ almost…”

Jimmy trailed off, dropping his gaze to the floor between them. Thomas swallowed, he felt hollow inside. Hollow and cold and afraid. 

“If it bothers you–”

“ _Should_ it bother me?” Jimmy interrupted, glancing up at him, eyes bright.

Thomas drew a shaky breath, consciously stopping himself from reaching for the wall for support. Whatever else, he could always stand tall.

“Look, Jimmy, I’m sorry. I never want to make you uncomfortable. I won’t… Ah, I’ll stop if…” Thomas trailed off, looking off to the side. He couldn’t stand to meet Jimmy’s eyes.

“Wait, what? It doesn’t…” There was a pause, and then Jimmy took a step forward, closing the distance between them. Thomas’s eyes widened as he felt Jimmy’s fingers trail along his jaw before stopping under his chin, tilting his head so Thomas was forced to look at him.

“It doesn’t bother me, Thomas,” Jimmy’s voice was soft as he let his fingers drop from Thomas’s chin, but his eyes didn’t leave Thomas’s.

“No one’s ever watched out for me before is all. I’m not used to it.” Jimmy’s hand reached out towards Thomas, hesitated, then grabbed lightly at the fabric of Thomas’s sleeve, tugging lightly.

“Jimmy?” Thomas urged him, fighting to keep his voice steady through the hammering of his pulse.

“I don’t want you to stop. I like it.”

Thomas let Jimmy tug him forward, head spinning. Jimmy’s hand travelled up along Thomas’s arm, coming to rest on his shoulder. Jimmy leaned forward, raising himself up until Thomas could feel his breath on his ear.

“I just… I don’t know how to handle it, what you do,” Jimmy’s voice was a whisper in his ear.

“You’re drunk.” 

“I know,” Jimmy whispered, his lips brushing against Thomas’s ear.

Thomas closed his eyes for a second then forced himself to lay a hand against Jimmy’s shoulder, pushing him gently away. He felt his throat go dry as their eyes met.

“I don’t want you to stop. But I don’t think you do it because we’re friends.”

Jimmy didn’t give Thomas a chance to reply. He leaned up and brushed his lips against Thomas’s.

Just then they both heard a noise coming from one of the other rooms. Jimmy drew back, eyes wide. Thomas cursed under his breath and stepped back, away from Jimmy.

“Go to sleep, Jimmy,” he whispered. “We’ll talk tomorrow, yeah?”

Jimmy nodded before stumbling into his room and closing the door behind him. Thomas laid a hand against the door.

_If you even remember this in the morning, that is._


	2. Hangover

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jimmy wakes wakes up, hungover, the morning after kissing Thomas.

The first thing Jimmy became conscious of as he woke up was the merciless throbbing of his head. He groaned, curling up into himself and screwing his eyes shut.

Slowly memories of the night before filtered through the pain and danced behind his closed eyelids. The pub in the village. Trying to outdrink Alfred because… Reasons. He was sure he’d had reasons. Amusement turning to concern in Thomas’s eyes until finally the under-butler declared it was time he took Jimmy home. Alfred laughing as he waved, staying behind. The walk back, and Thomas helping him up those damned stairs when he couldn’t seem to manage on his own…

_“I don’t want you to stop. But I don’t think you do it because we’re friends.”_

He could remember the feel of Thomas’s lips, the taste of them. Gin and tabacco and something else he couldn’t quite identify. He’d wanted to kiss Thomas again, to taste more of him, to slide his tongue against his. 

Jimmy sighed and stretched out on his back. His head throbbed and he tried, unsuccessfully, not to think about the memory. It was tempting to blame it on the alcohol, on being drunk; but in a rare moment of true honesty, Jimmy admitted to himself that kissing Thomas was something he’d wanted to do for a long time. The truth was that he’d have liked to have had a chance to do it again, more throughly and properly, but there had been a noise and they’d both panicked at the idea of someone catching them.

He ignored the voice in his head pointing out that Thomas hadn’t seemed particularly panicked, inconvenienced and annoyed most like. Jimmy himself had seen red for a second, like he had when Alfred had burst in his room that night nearly two years earlier. He didn’t want to think about that night, or about what he’d almost done to Thomas in the days and weeks after. 

Jimmy shook his head, putting those thoughts out of his mind, and was immediately sorry for the abrupt movement as fresh bursts of pain shot through his head.

The pain dulled without disappearing as his mind wandered back to last night’s kiss. He’d wanted _more_. He’d had the perfect excuse too. He had been drunk, he wouldn’t even have needed to admit to remembering any of it.

_"Go to sleep, Jimmy. We’ll talk tomorrow, yeah?"_

“Like hell we will,” Jimmy muttered. He didn’t dare talk about it. He wasn’t at all certain that he’d be able to close that door again one it had been opened, and he wasn’t willing to risk it.

It had been only one brief kiss, but Jimmy couldn’t admit it had happened. At least he had the perfect excuse to avoid talking about it.

Even if he still wanted more of Thomas.


End file.
